


The Watcher

by sophene



Series: Gotham's Protector Universe [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Gen, Selina Kyle is a Vigilante
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28841004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophene/pseuds/sophene
Summary: A continuation of my AU where Bruce Wayne never became Batman and Selina Kyle became a vigilante in his place. In this fic, Bruce and Jason meet the little boy who lives next door.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: Gotham's Protector Universe [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095662
Comments: 3
Kudos: 170





	The Watcher

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was way longer than I wanted it to be and a terror to write but I'm sick of looking at it so here you go! It takes place a little while after A Wild Encounter.

Jason decided to be a nuisance one sunny afternoon in April. He came into the study while Bruce was working on taxes and draped himself over one of the chairs across from Bruce’s desk.

“I’m bored.”

“That’s too bad,” Bruce said, not looking up from his computer.

“Can we go somewhere?”

“I’m busy right now,” Bruce said.

“Can we go to the bookstore?” Jason asked.

“You have an entire library of books to look through here at the house.”

"I don’t want any of those,” Jason complained. “I’ve either read all of those or I looked at them and they’re not interesting.”

“Homework?”

“Done.”

“Why don’t you go outside and play basketball? It’s a nice day out,” Bruce said.

“I _was_ outside. I came inside because that creepy kid is back,” Jason said. 

This did get Bruce’s full attention. He looked up from his computer and asked, “What kid?”

“The little one from next door. He’s always staring at me whenever I’m outside.”

“There’s no kid next door,” Bruce said.

“Yes there is,” Jason said.

Bruce was pretty sure their closest neighbors were the Drakes, Janet and Jeff or something. He’d met them once or twice at various parties, but he couldn’t remember anything about them having a son.

“Maybe you should introduce yourself. You two might become friends,” Bruce said.

“I don’t want to be friends with _him_. He’s younger than me.”

Bruce sighed. He really did need to get the taxes done, so he said, “Go ask Alfred if he’ll take you to the bookstore. I can make sure you’re sufficiently entertained later.”

Jason perked up at this and sat up straight. “Can I buy some books?”

Bruce sighed and said, “Yes.”

Jason all but jumped out of the chair and disappeared out the door, hollering for Alfred as he ran down the hall. Bruce shook his head and went back to the taxes.

* * *

Jason’s complaint about the child next door slipped Bruce’s mind until later that week. Bruce was downstairs in the kitchen on Saturday when raised voices drew his attention. He followed the noise to the French doors that led out to the backyard and looked out the window to see what was going on.

Jason was yelling at something over the brick wall. When Bruce followed his line of sight, he was surprised to see that there was a child up in a tree in the neighbor’s yard.

Bruce opened the door and stepped outside onto the patio, catching the tail end of the argument as he did so.

“—every day this week!” Jason was yelling. “Don’t you have something better to do? You just want to sit there all the time and stare at me?”

“I’m not staring at you!” the kid yelled back. “I’m climbing a tree!”

“Climb a different tree!”

“I don’t want to!” the kid said. 

Jason was so furious that he didn’t hear Bruce approach. Jason flinched when Bruce set a hand on his shoulder, but relaxed when he looked up and saw it was just him.

“Hello Jason,” Bruce said, giving his shoulder a pointed but gentle squeeze. “What’s going on?”

Jason waved a hand in the child’s direction and said, “Tim is being an asshole again.”

“Language, Jason,” Bruce said at the same time that the boy—Tim—yelled, “I’m not being an asshole! You’re being an asshole!”

Exasperated, Bruce said, “That’s Tim’s yard, Jason. He can climb whatever tree he wants.”

“I should be able to come out here whenever I want without being looked at all the time,” Jason said.

“I wasn’t looking at you!” Tim said.

“Yes you were!” Jason snapped back.

“Tim, please forgive Jason’s rudeness,” Bruce said. “You are of course allowed to climb any tree in your backyard that you want. However, Jason would prefer if you would climb a different tree so that he doesn’t feel like he’s being watched. Are there other trees you can climb in your yard?”

Tim looked like he was mulling Bruce’s request over. After a beat he muttered, “I guess.”

“Great,” Bruce said. He let go of Jason’s shoulder, and in a quieter voice he said to Jason, “See? Problem solved.”

Jason snorted and muttered something Bruce didn’t catch. Bruce was distracted suddenly because Tim had started to descend from the tree. It was an old, big tree. It loomed over the brick fence, which was itself quite a bit taller than the standard neighborhood wall. Bruce hadn’t noticed how high up Tim up was because Tim had been still in one spot, but he noticed it now. Tim’s skinny arms shook as he went from branch to branch, but he didn’t lose his grip.

“You’re up very high, Tim. Where are your parents? Do you need help getting down?” Bruce asked him.

An odd expression crossed Tim’s face, one that was notable for how utterly blank it was. Tim said, “I’m fine,” and descended faster, quickly disappearing from view behind the wall.

“Problem solved,” Jason said in a mocking tone. “Next time he’ll definitely pick a different tree.”

It took Bruce a moment to focus on what Jason said.

“He’s just a kid. Who cares if he stares at you?”

Jason made a disgusted face. “He’s weird.”

“And you should learn to be nice and ask for what you want instead of yelling at people,” Bruce said.

Bruce turned and went back into the Manor, the trailing sound of Jason's muttering following him as he went.

* * *

Three days passed, and something was bothering Bruce. Even when he was supposed to be busy working on something else he found his mind drifting in the direction of the house next door. Since his office windows looked out at the Drakes’ house, this happened often. He felt like he was listening for something. He wasn’t sure what he was listening for, but whatever it was that was bothering him definitely had something to do with the child next door.

Bruce was given the opportunity to investigate further on Wednesday evening. He was in the kitchen helping Alfred when Jason stomped back into the house and roughly began to pull off his shoes by the back door.

“Something wrong?” Bruce asked him.

Jason shot Bruce a dirty look. He said, “Tim’s back. In the same tree.”

“He is?”

“I told you!” Jason said. “I told you he’d be back!”

Bruce mulled this over, worried for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint yet.

“You should invite Tim over for dinner,” Bruce said.

Jason’s face was incredulous. “What? No! I’m not asking him!”

“Just do it, Jason,” Bruce said.

“Why?”

“Because I’m trying to figure something out. Go back outside and do it,” Bruce said.

“No!”

Bruce breathed out slowly and closed his eyes for a moment. He wasn’t proud of what he was about to do.

“If you invite Tim over for dinner with us I’ll give you a hundred dollars to buy books,” Bruce said.

Jason’s expression instantly went from being irritated to being interested. He said, “Really?”

“Yes.”

Jason considered the prospect, his expression calculating. It didn’t take him long to make up his mind. He pushed his feet back into his shoes and got up, saying, “Fine,” as he headed back out the door.

And that was how Tim ended up having dinner with them about forty-five minutes later.

They ate in the kitchen since the dining room seemed too imposing for such a youthful guest. Jason dealt with Tim’s presence by being moody and silent, but Dick didn’t seem to mind. After asking Tim his name and a few other polite questions, Dick started talking to Alfred about his schoolwork and mostly seemed to forget Tim was there. This was fine because Bruce wanted to be able to talk to Tim without being interrupted.

“So,” Bruce said cheerfully as he spooned a serving of mashed potatoes onto Tim’s plate. “How old are you, Tim?”

Tim picked up his fork and started playing with his food, running the prongs of the utensil through his mashed potatoes.

“I’m nine,” Tim said.

“What’s your favorite class at school?”

Tim had to think about it. After a long pause he finally said, “I got to take a class about computers last year. The teacher started teaching us coding. That was my favorite class.”

“You don’t like science, art, history?” Bruce asked. “Jason’s favorite class is English. Dick prefers the physical education classes, but he’s very good at history and speech too.”

“They’re alright,” Tim said.

Bruce took a break from interviewing him so that Tim could eat. He didn’t seem too interested in the food at first, but once he realized it was edible he began to eat with more gusto. His huge eyes traveled around the kitchen as he did so, taking in details.

“What do you do for fun? Do you have any hobbies?” Bruce asked him after a while.

“Spying on people,” Jason suggested from across the table.

Tim shot Jason a look, but answered the question. “I like taking pictures. And I like computers. I play video games.”

“I’d like to see some of your pictures. What kind of camera do you use?” Bruce asked.

“The only camera I have is on my phone,” Tim muttered. It sounded like this was a sore subject.

“I used to take photos with an old Canon AE-1 that belonged to my father. I even built a darkroom so that I could develop my own film,” Bruce said.

Tim frowned and asked, “A darkroom?”

Bruce started explaining how film was developed and Tim listened intently, seeming to forget his food altogether. When Bruce was done explaining, Tim started to ask more questions about photography and the chemicals needed to develop photos from film.

In the midst of this conversation it occurred to Bruce that Tim was a very smart child. Tim remembered all of the steps in the exact order Bruce told them to him, and the names of all the chemicals. He asked questions that Bruce wouldn’t have even thought to ask when he started out, and Bruce had been considerably older than Tim when he first got interested in photography.

Tim being as smart as he was meant that Bruce had to be subtle. Tim would notice right away if he wasn't.

“You’re welcome to borrow my old Canon if you’d like to take some pictures the old fashioned way,” Bruce said. “Although of course you would need to talk to your parents first before attempting to develop photos.”

Tim had brightened when Bruce first offered the camera, but went blank again when Bruce mentioned his parents.

“I guess,” Tim said.

Bruce tried asking some more questions, but it was as he’d feared: asking Tim about his parents made him shut down. No longer interested in discussing photography, he finished the rest of his dinner and left right afterwards, thanking Alfred for the food before he snuck out the back door.

Later, after Dick and Jason had gone back up to their rooms, Bruce helped Alfred clean up the kitchen.

“What was all of that about?” Alfred asked him.

“All of what?” Bruce asked.

“You asked our young guest a lot of questions,” Alfred said.

Bruce considered his response while he wiped down a pan. Instead of saying it outright, however, he asked, “Do you hear a lot going on next door? Doors opening and closing, cars going back and forth?”

He turned around and caught the thoughtful look on Alfred’s face as he considered the question.

“Well, I’m not sure I’ve been paying particular attention,” Alfred said. “There’s always so much activity going on here.” 

“We’ve met his parents before, right?”

“At our last Christmas party, yes,” Alfred said, nodding. “Janet and Jack Drake. I believe Jack Drake is an archeologist. Why?”

Bruce did not provide an explanation for his curiosity.

* * *

Bruce ended up researching Janet and Jack Drake.

It turned out that Jack Drake wasn't just an archeologist. He also inherited a company, Drake Industries, which provided Mr. and Mrs. Drake with a comfortable lifestyle so that Jack could focus on his scientific interests. According to the latest issue of a popular scientific magazine, Jack was currently in Ukraine working on a dig. The article did not mention Janet Drake or whether or not she was with her husband overseas. She might have stayed in the States to watch Tim, or perhaps they had hired help. Either way it wasn’t really any of Bruce’s business. Bruce tried to get over whatever it was that was making him so uneasy and let it go.

Then Tim appeared in the Manor one afternoon after the boys got home from school.

Bruce was walking down a hallway when he turned a corner and there Tim was. He was staring up at one of the portraits on the wall, but whirled around when he heard Bruce approach, his eyes wide.

“Oh,” Bruce said, surprised. “Hello Tim.”

Tim’s eyes flicked up at him. “Hi.”

“I didn't know you were coming over today. Did you come over to see Jason?” Bruce asked.

After a moment of hesitation, Tim nodded.

“You like the painting?” Bruce asked, gesturing at the portrait.

Tim shrugged, but nodded again.

“He’s an ancestor of mine. He purchased the land that became the Gotham Nature Conservatory. Have you ever been?” Bruce said.

Another nod. Tim said, “Once. My school went on a field trip.”

Bruce and Tim wandered along and Bruce told him about the subjects of the other portraits. When they reached the end of the hall, Tim said, “You said I could borrow your old camera?” It sounded like a question.

“It might be in my office,” Bruce said. “Come along.”

He and Tim went to his office. The camera was sitting high up on one of Bruce’s bookshelves, so Bruce fetched it for him. They sat down on the couch and Bruce showed him how it worked.

Tim grew more and more enthusiastic and talkative as the afternoon went on. Bruce let him take a couple of pictures, and then Tim wanted to talk about the darkroom again. Bruce could tell that Tim had researched them after learning about them from Bruce.

“Don’t forget what I said about checking with your parents first,” Bruce reminded him.

Tim’s expression did something odd. It didn’t go blank like the other times Bruce mentioned his parents, but there was something that flashed in his eyes that Bruce didn’t know how to interpret.

“I remember,” Tim said, and changed the subject.

Tim went home before dinner, overjoyed because Bruce told him he could take the Canon and some film with him. Bruce went up to Jason’s room and knocked on the door as soon as he was gone.

“What?” Jason yelled.

Jason was sitting at this desk working on his homework, and he didn't look up from his computer when Bruce walked in.

“Hello Jason,” Bruce said.

“What do you want?” Jason asked. 

“Did you let Tim into the Manor today?”

Jason stopped typing and turned to shoot Bruce an incredulous look over his shoulder.

“Why would I let Tim into the Manor?” he asked.

“That’s what I thought,” Bruce said. “I’ll let you get back to your homework.”

Jason shouted a question at him as he shut the door. Bruce didn’t answer him.

* * *

After that Bruce started finding Tim around the Manor with increasing regularity, and Bruce took note of his patterns without really meaning to. Tim never came over during the day. He only came over in the afternoon around the time when Jason and Dick got home from school. He never provided any explanations for how he was getting into the house, or any excuses for being there. Bruce didn't mention that he’d talked to Jason.

When Tim came over he mostly followed Bruce around. He asked lots of questions about Alfred, Wayne Enterprises, and Dick and Jason. One day he asked who Jason and Dick's mother was, and Bruce realized he thought that Dick and Jason were Bruce's biological children. Bruce informed him that Dick and Jason were his adopted children, and that he’d never been married.

Tim looked confused by this. "So you don't love anyone?" 

"You mean romantically?" Bruce asked.

Tim nodded. 

Catwoman came to Bruce's mind in a series of fleeting images, but he dismissed them same as he always did. 

"Not really. Why?" Bruce said. 

Tim changed the subject. 

Bruce was surprised to find that he didn’t mind being the subject of Tim’s attention that much, although he did find it unusual. There was a reason Tim had imprinted on him like a duckling, he was sure of it, but whenever Bruce started asking him too many of his own questions Tim clammed up and would make up an excuse about needing to go home.

One day Bruce couldn’t help himself any longer and went next door to ring the doorbell. Although he knocked and rang the doorbell several times, no one ever came to answer it. Like clockwork, however, Tim was in the Manor again about thirty minutes after Alfred picked up Jason and Dick from school that day. All of it gave Bruce a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

At last Bruce got lucky one Wednesday morning and happened to look out the window and notice that there was a car parked in front of the Drakes’ house. He immediately dropped what he was doing and went next door to ring the doorbell again.

This time someone did answer. She was wearing a polo shirt with a maid service logo embroidered on it. She asked, “Hi, can I help you with something?”

“Hello. My name is Bruce Wayne and I live next door. I was wondering if Mr. or Mrs. Drake is home? I’d like to speak to them about something.”

She shook her head and said, “Sorry, but I don’t think they’re even in the country right now. I have Mr. Drake’s phone number if you need to contact him though.”

“Do you happen to know who is staying here while they’re gone? A housekeeper, perhaps?” Bruce asked.

She frowned. “No one is staying here right now.”

“But that can’t be possible,” Bruce said.

The maid looked as perplexed as Bruce felt.

She shook her head again and said, “We come in every couple of weeks and dust the furniture, check on everything to make sure no one has broken in. But when Mr. Drake goes on his business trips he’s usually gone for months at a time, and Mrs. Drake almost always goes with him. There’s no reason for someone to stay here all the time.”

“Don’t the Drakes have a son?”

“He’s at boarding school. It’s in the city, but he lives in the dorms during the school year so Mr. and Mrs. Drake can travel,” she said.

Bruce stared at her, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. He almost corrected her, but truthfully, this was a suspicion that had been building in Bruce’s mind for days. He wanted to give Tim the opportunity to explain himself before deciding what to do.

So instead of prying further, he smiled at her and thanked her for her time. Then he went back to the Manor to wait.

* * *

When Tim showed up just after 4 o’clock, Bruce was ready for him. He caught Tim taking pictures of Ace in the game room and said, “Tim, could I speak to you privately in my study for a moment?”

Tim tensed. For a moment Bruce thought he might make another one of his excuses and run home, but he didn’t. Instead he got up and followed Bruce down the hall.

Bruce shut the door behind them and told Tim to sit down on the couch. Tim did so and Bruce sat down on the chair across from him.

“I went over to your house today and rang the doorbell. I talked to one of the maids. She said that nobody is staying at your house right now because your mother and father are in Ukraine,” Bruce said. 

Tim averted his gaze.

“She also told me something else that I found interesting,” Bruce went on. “Apparently you’re supposed to be at boarding school right now. She said that you live in the dorms during the school year.”

Though Tim wouldn’t look at him in the eye, Bruce could see the gears turning in his head.

“I left boarding school,” Tim admitted.

Bruce was surprised he hadn’t lied.

“Are your parents aware of this?” Bruce asked.

Tim shook his head.

Bruce sighed. “Tim. Have you been living there unsupervised all this time?”

It took a moment, but Tim finally met his gaze and nodded.

“What if something had happened to you and there was no one around to help? What if you got sick? That is very dangerous,” Bruce said.

“I can have food delivered. I just have to time the deliveries right so they don’t get to the house when the maids are there.”

Bruce had to take a moment to breathe. He should have made Tim tell him the truth a long time ago. He’d known something was wrong, but he hadn’t pushed hard enough.

“Why are you doing this?” Bruce asked him. 

“You know Catwoman,” Tim said.

For a moment Bruce was caught off guard. He wasn’t even sure he’d heard Tim correctly.

“I’m sorry?” Bruce said, frowning.

“You know Catwoman. I saw her once. She was climbing in through that window.” Tim pointed at the one behind Bruce’s desk.

She did come through that window a lot, but Bruce was wary about admitting it. Part of their arrangement was that nobody was supposed to know they had one. It was unsafe for Bruce and his family if too many people found out he helped her and her associates from time to time.

“Is that why you’ve been coming over here?” Bruce asked him. “Because you think I know Catwoman?”

“I don’t _think_ you know,” Tim said, sounding imperious all of the sudden. “I know you know her. I saw her last summer. She was standing right there.” He pointed at a spot next to the fireplace. “You stood there and had a conversation with her. It went on for almost an hour.”

Bruce sat back in the chair and tried to think through how to proceed.

At last, Bruce admitted, “Alright, yes. I do know her. Is that why you’ve been coming over here? Because you were hoping to see her?”

Tim nodded.

“And that was worth leaving boarding school? Meeting Catwoman?” Bruce asked.

Tim fell silent and fiddled with the camera. He had very thin fingers. He appeared calm, his face relaxed and blank again, but the fiddling gave him away. Something was wrong.

“I need her help,” Tim said.

“With what?”

“There’s…” Tim trailed off. He looked beyond Bruce’s shoulder. “There’s a teacher at school. I think he might be planning something. I found these diagrams in his notebook. It was in his office. He was…it looked like he was writing notes on how to fix people.”

“Fix people how?” Bruce asked.

“Put masks on them. Do surgery on them,” Tim said.

“And you think this was something he was really planning to do? Not just drawings in a notebook?”

A nod.

“Why would you think that?”

Tim set the camera gently down on the coffee table and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“I got pictures,” Tim said. He tapped at the screen, then held the phone out to Bruce.

Bruce took it from him and looked down at the picture Tim had pulled up.

At first Bruce couldn’t really make sense of what he was seeing.

“He’s not one of my teachers,” Tim explained as Bruce kept studying the picture, zooming in to get a closer look. “He teaches the anatomy class for the seniors. But he came up to me in the hallway one day and said he thought I was very smart. He said that if I wanted to learn more about science I should come by his class and talk to him. One of the older kids warned me to stay away.”

“So then how did you see the notes in his office?”

“I stole a janitor’s badge and got in,” Tim said.

Tim went on without needing to be prompted. It seemed that now that the story was coming out he couldn’t help but tell it all. He told Bruce about how the seniors all talked about the teacher, Dr. Valentin. None of them liked the man and thought he was odd. When he began to turn his attention to Tim, Tim panicked and found a way to trick the headmaster into believing his parents were pulling him out of school.

“And you didn’t talk to your parents before you did this?” Bruce asked.

“I tried. Dad he said that I always do this and that I’m just being paranoid. He said that the school wouldn’t hire somebody bad because of their reputation. People would pull their kids out if they had the wrong teachers. That’s what he said.”

Bruce fell silent, unable to think of anything appropriate to say. What he saw in the pictures was beyond weird, it was downright unnerving. The notes jotted around the drawings were erratic and rambling, both nonsensical and upsetting in their implications. Whether or not Dr. Valentin actually intended to act on his plans was irrelevant, in Bruce’s opinion. The fact that an educator was drawing and writing such things was a concern in and of itself.

“Did you show these pictures to any of your other teachers? Or to the police?” Bruce asked.

“I tried to show dad,” Tim said. He sounded like he was trying to hide a hitch in his throat. “He told me to drop it. The dig isn’t going well and he didn’t want to listen. But I knew Catwoman wouldn’t care that I broke into Dr. Valentin's office.”

Bruce was silent as he finished going through the pictures, and sent them all to his own device before he gave Tim his phone back.

“Are you going to tell her about Dr. Valentin?” Tim asked.

Bruce sighed. “That’s the problem. I don’t have any way of getting in touch with her. She seeks me out when she needs me for something, not the other way around.” 

Tim deflated. “Oh.”

“But I have other resources. I might be able to get in touch with someone who could get in touch with her for me,” Bruce said.

Tim brightened back up again and the sight of it broke Bruce’s heart. The thought of Jack Drake shutting Tim down gave Bruce an impulse to grind his teeth together. 

“You can’t stay at your house by yourself and you can’t go back to school yet,” Bruce told Tim. “Do you have any other relatives who live in the area?”

Tim shook his head.

“Then I’ll have Alfred fix up a room for you here at the Manor for now.”

Bruce watched as his shoulders lightened, as if an enormous weight had been lifted off of his back. Bruce felt a fresh wave of anger. Tim was just a child. Someone should have been there for him, should have listened to him. The person who should have listened to him was his father.

But Bruce was listening, even if Tim’s father hadn’t. And until this situation with Dr. Valentin was handled, Tim wasn’t going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Laslo Valentin (the anatomy teacher at Tim's school) is Professor Pyg in the comics just in case that's not clear. Selina is able to stop Dr. Valentin before he can hurt anyone and Bruce of course will eventually wind up becoming Tim's legal guardian on account of the fact that I never cared for Jack Drake.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
